One Year Ago....

....crawfish etouffe, zydecho, beads, Abita, jazz, second lines, mold, flood water, vacant homes, hammering, sawing, caulking, sweating, sticky cups of Hurricanes, pickled watermelon, scaffolding, Drive-Thru Daquiris, Habitat, volunteering, non-profit, cajun spice, change, change, change, shift, change, grow, run.

Breathing Space

Contrary to evidence here, I've been doing a lot of writing lately.

But it's mostly of the research, policy-minded, quantitative type of writing I thought I'd left back in grad school. Thankfully, because I believe in the causes and (mostly) love what I do, the intensive and sometimes mind-numbing work is ultimately rewarding. So I keep telling myself as I down triple lattes and log miles out on the Baltimore streets after work trying to expel all the contained energy.

In moving, I stumbled across a book of clippings from my freelancing days. While there are things I miss (the illusion of grandeur, mostly) what I've found these days is that the harder I work, and the more I commit myself to what I do, the easier it is for me to breathe.

Everything is just so different now, years later. Stumbling into something that fits seems so accidental and so deliciously gratifying, but is it really some freak alignment or a series of choices that line up and suddenly doors swing open at the right times? After so many years of running against the wind, you finally crash land against the right door and find it unlocked. And open it to find a whole world of doors you didn't know existed. And maybe it's not the door you thought you wanted, or even in a hallway you wanted to go down. But it's there, and it works, and it fits, and suddenly it all just makes sense, somehow.

Ran outside in short-sleeves the other evening. Spring is on its way. And I've got races coming up, final stages of moving into my new place, Vegas in April with Book Club, Snap's wedding in May, and the on-set of kayaking season!

Plus, you know, all that policy that needs writing. That, too.

#3- What You're Worth

OK, enough politics for now.

My day was all spilled coffee, error messages and wrong turns. I got lost trying to find something in an unfamiliar neighborhood and wound up having to make three U-turns to correct it. This doesn't sound mathematically (geometrically?) possible, but it's true. Baltimore, like any city, is full of one way streets and no left turns. I'm used to this.

Last year I interviewed for an internship position with a very large non-profit. They ended up canceling the internship program for various reasons, but the woman with whom I spoke kindly offered to answer any questions I had about non-profits when I told her I was looking for a career change. She said, "There is one main thing you should keep in mind when pursuing a career in non-profits: work very hard for many hours for very little money."

Which brings me to #3 on the Happiness Project: Put money low on the list.

If I had a nickel.

No, seriously.

The thing is, more stress in this world comes from money and the having or not having of it then pretty much anything else I'd imagine. Mo' money? Mo' problems.

It's true, and I've witnessed it first-hand. I always think that I would be a happier person, a more complete person if [insert goal here.] I were ten pounds thinner. I were ten IQ points smarter. I had a few thousand dollars lying around.

And, over the years, all of these things have fluctuated. Aside from the IQ points. No, actually, maybe those too. I think I'm quite smarter during the times when I limit the vodka intake. I have been thinner, fatter, richer, poorer, smarter, dumber, and any given mark on the spectrum of these. And- let me tell you, while it certainly can be less stressful to be in the black on these terms, it doesn't guarantee happiness.

I have figured out that I am a person who values experience over material things. I didn't find this out through some deep, spiritual process. I took a long hard look at my finances and discovered where the bulk of my money goes (outside of bills):
1. Food.
2. Bar tabs/general alcohol purchases.
3. Travel.

I don't spend excessive amounts of money on things. This is not to say that I do not like things. I have more books than anyone I know. (Except maybe Jackal.) I love shoes and bags and big earrings.

(I recently purchased my first Coach bag. For the record- it was a very practical black wristlet. Purchased at nearly 50% off from an outlet. Does this count?)

The point is, I apparently spend 90% of my expendable income on experiences. Dinners out. Nights out. Traveling to new locations.

Wealth, to me, is measured in experiences. In moments with friends and family, in countries I've visited, and in what I choose to do with my time. I choose to work in a profession that espouses the values I embrace, and I have the luxury of having an education and a background that has built the framework for this life.

Also, and this is never, ever to be underestimated: I measure my wealth in health. I have been laid up with mono, with Lyme Disease, with broken bones and, I can tell you, I am eternally grateful that all of those things were curable and temporary. For those who are healthy, I think it's an easy thing to take for granted. Do not. You have essentially a million dollars in the bank if you have your health and, if you don't believe me, ask anyone with a permanent or terminal illness to show you their medical costs and the cost of time taken away from their work, their life, their loved ones.

Money is money. It comes and goes. It's problematic and stressful, it's not talked about in polite society, and there will never be enough. Yes, it can grease the wheels in certain circumstances but without the wealth of love, of health, of an appreciation for life it means next to nothing.

So, despite my day of frustrations and my pitiful bank account and the fact that I am desperately lusting after a plane ticket to either Greece or San Francisco (can't decide which one I want more...) I consider myself wealthy. I was born a middle-class white girl with a loving family vested in my success and at-least-average smarts. I consider this instant wealth.

Do I wish I had a couple thousand dollars lying around? You better believe it. But you know what I'd spend it on? I'd fly to San Francisco and take Snickers and Snap out to a lavish sushi dinner with bottomless wine glasses. And then buy a bunch of books at City Lights. And then go kayaking at Pebble Beach.

OH- and then a wine tour.

OH- and I'd buy a pair of killer winter boots.

To wear when I buy my plane ticket to Chicago.

OH- Chicago...I want to go there too.

I digress.

Measure your wealth in ways other than monetary, Glitteratis. Yes, money is important. But so are all of these other things.

And may I suggest www.LivingSocial.com to assist you with the purchasing of experiences at a discount. I recently got a $35 bar tab for $15, and an entire day of kayaking for $18. Win.

Recalibrating Perspectives

(Given my penchant towards birds in the aesthetic/allegorical senses, I felt it was a good omen that this creature found our office inviting and decided to stay.)

From Idealist.org: Some of the nicest, most caring, and selfless people you will ever meet work for nonprofit organizations. Many of these organizations also hire very bright and well-educated individuals who contribute to an intelligent and stimulating work environment.

I don't know why, for so long, I equated a 9-5 with corporate drudgery. It's not as though that was ever instilled in me. To the contrary: my family is filled with entrepreneurs, self-starters, teachers, adventurers, artists.

The end of week 2 has brought me to this point of exhaustion, a little mental burn-out, but a general feeling of satisfied relief. As I settle into this new life, this new career, these new ideas and philosophies I wonder how it is I existed before.

Everyone I've met in this field thus far has an incredibly interesting world view. They are intellectuals, artists, and interested in the aesthetics of life. I don't know why it took me so long to find "my people," or where these people were before. Maybe I wasn't ready to step up; maybe I wasn't ready to take a seat at the table.

Regardless, I find a sense of happiness that kept eluding me all these years. I wake up the morning grateful for the day, and I drive home in the evenings with a sense of accomplishment.

Make no mistake: I'm not wholly disillusioned and wrapped up in the honeymoon phase. I am aware that I'm walking that fine line of a new relationship: where everything seems great and amazing, but both parties have been burned before and are just waiting for the red flag to fly. The freak flag, which we all have. This job wants to like me just as much as I want to like it, but we've both had our share of ill-fits and crossed connections. We're settling into this slowly, both afraid to admit how well this is working out. So far. Always with that added validation. So far lets us off the hook if something goes south.

And, of course, it's transition and it's bumpy. Just because I wake up in the morning glad to be me, glad to have my life doesn't mean I spring out of bed like some cracked-out cartoon character. Of course I still hit snooze. Who doesn't? And just because I drive home feeling accomplished doesn't mean I don't grit my teeth at traffic. My shoes still feel uncomfortable by 5pm, I still have to deal with inane bureaucratic drudgery, and I still face that 9-5 "grind." Again- who in this arena doesn't?

But it's all different now, somehow. Maybe it's the "higher purpose," aspect. Maybe it's that I had to come to this part of my life when I was ready. Maybe my priorities are different. Maybe it's because success for me now is measured in the well-being of other humans, which feels better to me. Maybe it's only two weeks into this and I have yet to reach the burn-out that's so common in the non-profit world. Who knows? All I know is that I finally have a field that, so far, seems to fit.

So far. Maybe at some point I'll lose the fear of commitment and be able to make declarative statements without addendum. Working towards this point.